


Genius Wears A Stupid Hat

by Lady Adain (pocketTherapist)



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, Meet-Cute, Uraichi - Freeform, Whoops I Wrote A Fic, You Have Been Warned, nothing but fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 12:07:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15485412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketTherapist/pseuds/Lady%20Adain
Summary: Look, Ichigo hadn't realized that the cute guy he'd dragged into the closet was the brightest mind of its generation. But, hey, he wasn't about to let it go that easily.





	Genius Wears A Stupid Hat

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't write this as much as this spontaneously formed out of the void and clubbed me over the head.
> 
> I hate meet-cutes. I hate modern university AUs. I hate stupid pointless fluff and no plot.
> 
> And yet, here we are.

Ichigo is on his way to class when a blond and green whirlwind crashes into him. Ichigo steadies the person reflexively, abruptly concerned with the way the man is looking over his shoulder. Wide silver eyes meet his own, and the man hisses,

 

“Hide me!”

 

Ichigo raises an eyebrow, but instead of questioning, he tugs the other to a door across the hall that Ichigo knows should be locked but almost never actually  _ is.  _ Sure enough, it swings open easily under his hand. Just as voices start to round the corner, he bundles them both into the tiny store room and clicks the door shut behind them. 

 

The stranger slumps against a wall, yanking off a battered,  _ hideous _ hat to run unsteady fingers through his hair. Ichigo just waits. He works with the psych department sometimes, okay, he knows what anxiety can drive a person to. Finally, the other seems put together enough to look up and meet Ichigo's eyes, looking a little startled to find Ichigo still there. 

 

Ichigo offers him a wry grin. 

 

“The rush for classes getting to you? It does get pretty chaotic.”

 

The man rubs sheepishly at the back of his head, and Ichigo resists the sudden urge to  _ pet _ him.

 

“Ah, no, I was trying to find the Psychology classroom, but there was a group of professors who wanted to talk, and then…”

 

Ichigo nods understandingly, and offers,

 

“Well, I’m heading to Psych, too. Which one, in the Reynard Auditorium? C’mon, I’ll walk you there, if you’re ready.”

 

His rescue drapes his hand over his face for a moment, then takes a deep breath and shoves off of the wall, dropping his hat back onto his head. Ichigo can  _ see _ the moment he pulls on a public persona, a grinning smirk and an easy saunter, eyes concealed behind that abomination of a hat. He gestures to the door with a flourish.

 

“Shall we go?”

 

Ichigo offers him a rare, genuine smile, and pulls the door open. They walk together to the door of the auditorium, arriving just as the clock strikes the hour. Instead of heading towards the rows of seats, however, his companion splits off and heads toward the podium, leaving Ichigo gaping after him. 

 

He’d known they were having a guest speaker today--an adjunct professor from the med school Ichigo was planning on attending after graduation--but he hadn’t realized that the shabby, nervous young man he’d hidden was he. 

 

And then the man introduces himself, and Ichigo’s jaw  _ drops _ . 

 

What the hell is Urahara Kisuke doing at a place like this? And as such a lowly ambassador from another school, too, instead of giving a lecture to half the professors?

 

Ichigo has to bury his face in his hands to hide the red he can  _ feel _ creeping up his face. He dragged  _ Doctor Urahara _ into a closet. The man who first came up with a working theory for folding spacetime, the first person in  _ history _ to manage to successfully describe a working teleportation machine, the designs of which were implemented not two years later? And who published the infamous paper which got him his doctorate at  _ seventeen _ ? Urahara was Ichigo’s  _ hero _ , has been since Ichigo was fifteen and watched a seventeen-year-old bring the future into the  _ now _ . Forget the media craze and the scandals afterwards--that was the moment Ichigo knew  _ exactly _ what he wanted to do with his life. 

 

He resists the urge to dramatically wail “Not worthy!” at the sky, mostly by dint of reminding himself that interrupting the man speaking would be  _ unbearably _ rude. 

 

Urahara's standard spiel is over in half an hour, followed by an announcement that he'd be open for questions. He's more or less immediately thronged by students eager to hear of their potential new school. Ichigo hovers at the back of the pack, waiting, because he has questions, absolutely, but… not about the medical school. 

 

As soon as the last of the rising graduates drift away, Ichigo steps forward, offering his hand. 

 

“Doctor Urahara. My name is Kurosaki Ichigo, and I actually have a few questions on potential medical applications of your spacetime folding technology.”

 

Urahara looks up with a grimace, not quite meeting Ichigo's eyes. He looks a little ragged around the edges, actually, as if the influx of people and actual  _ talking  _ is beginning to wear on him. No wonder he'd tried to escape earlier. 

 

The man plasters on a wide smile nevertheless, waving a hand carelessly in front of his face. 

 

“Aah, Kurosaki-san, that old thing? You must have heard that I was discredited, surely, for stealing the research from a coworker?”

 

Ichigo scoffs reflexively. 

 

“No way in hell. Doctor Aizen is good, but he's not that good, and the… the paper didn't  _ feel _ like him.”

 

This time, Ichigo can  _ sense _ the weight of Urahara's gaze on him, and he flushes again under the scrutiny. Finally, after a long silence, the man says quietly, 

 

“Interesting. Very interesting, Kurosaki-san. I think that I would like to invite you to tea. You said had something about… the research that you wanted to discuss?”

 

Ichigo has to restrain himself from bouncing up and down like an overeager puppy. Instead he manages a mostly dignified, 

 

“Yes, Urahara-san. I would love to.”


End file.
